Benevolence
by Hawkins437
Summary: He had spent years denying the prophecy of the Scions, sabotaging his own fate. Now, after his redemption, Arcann becomes the man he was meant to be. One-shot.


The way she used the Force was nothing he'd ever experienced before. He had heard of the other worlds which divided the Force into light and dark, but to him—to Zakuul—the Force simply _was_.

But when she heals his battle wounds, she manipulates the Force with such gentleness and care that when the power reaches him, all he can feel is peace. His regrets diminished; the darkness in him subdued.

Not like the Voss healing which both gave and took; a chaotic inpour of energy buzzing in his head.

The Force washes over him like an ocean—coming in steady waves; pain vanishes as the low tides come ebbing away. When he closes his eyes, she stands in the middle of it, a resplendent crystal arising from the translucent water, shining against the skies.

Her presence in the Force is calm and stalwart—reminding him of Thexan. Even now, years later the pang of pain he feels at the memory of his brother is palpable—even more so through the Force.

"You still mourn your brother." she notes, but her focus wavers not.

"Thexan was the best of us—"he says. "Strong, calm; the only one not to be broken by Valkorion's upbringing."

There is an alien depth to her eyes. So unlike the sharp blue of his own. But they are closed as the tendrils of light envelop him, soothing like water drops across his skin. He often wonders if that's what her touch would feel like on his scars.

Her eyes only open when he addresses her, the healing waves subsiding as she focuses on him solely.

"May I ask you a question, Commander? What did Valkorion do that made you chase him to the edge of the galaxy?"

"He caged a Jedi hero for three hundred years, tortured him. When we released the man, he went mad, raised an army of cultists to kill his tormentor. He was not strong enough... neither of us were. The emperor escaped." A heavy sigh passes her lips, wrinkles settling on her forehead. "We tracked him to Imperial world of Ziost. First he drove our troops mad; then consumed everything on that planet. Millions dead in seconds. People, animals, even plants. The memory still haunts me."

Unwittingly, he takes her hand into his, caressing it as Senya used to when he was ailing as a child; as his brother Thexan did when no other loving creature remained in his life. Comfort had been sparse in his life—even so he was determined to share it with her.

"Before that, he had implanted sleeper agents in our Order; they'd been working for the Emperor unawares. I was forced to fight my own Master. That made the chase personal." she snickers ironically as she recites part of the Jedi teachings: "A Jedi forms no attachments."

It felt strange—to touch her gently after all the pain he's wantonly inflicted upon her in his arrogance, defiant of his fate.

As if reading his mind, she breaches the topic that has ever stood like a wall between the two of them, "Can I ask a question as well?" he only nods in response. "What did Heskal foresee that upset you so much?"

A simple question, yet impossible to answer without revealing his sentiments.

For years he had held her as a prize and refused to heed the Scions' soothsaying. He was destined to follow her, they had said. But his ego would bend before no one, least of all love. He would rather see her destroyed. Even if he had become the lesser for it.

Only too late did he realise that he has fallen in love with the woman he has so adamantly tried to kill. He'd been foolish to shirk his fate.

He's hesitant to meet her gaze for fear of being betrayed by his eyes. But when he finally looks up, he spies the same emotions mirrored in her eyes.

"May I...?"

She says nothing, but does not shrink back when he cranes forward and gently touches his lips to hers. The kiss they share is brief, not meant to impose—to serve merely as a demonstration.

"I was wrong to betray you. Now I see that I was not meant to kill you but love you."

* * *

The years of Jedi training have not prepared her for this.

As a consular, she trained to be a diplomat—collected, rational, compassionate, but ultimately distant. But once put in her position—the Alliance Commander—with masses looking to follow her lead, the distance had no longer been an option. Gradually, the Jedi training had begun eroding, giving way to emotion as she started to form attachments to her people.

That is how she found out that contrary to the Jedi teachings, emotions do not necessarily stray off the path of light. Care. Compassion. Duty. Responsibility. Neither was evil, nor was it dark.

That was initially what had drawn her to Arcann.

She felt responsibility for his actions, duty to help defeat him, then—upon Senya's return to the Alliance—duty to help redeem him.

And over it all compassion. In her meditation, she often saw him as a frail light, glinting in the overlooming shadow threatening to quench it. A mere slip of a boy abandoned by all that was good, left to straggle on his own in the darkness.

Desperation. Ambition. Passion.

The emotions still lurked within him, simmering under the light Senya has lent him along with her life force. He was in control for now, resolute; but the crust that held his old self back was thin.

That is why her newest emotion scared her.

He excited her.

His most fleeting touch would leave the skin burning beneath. His every address a flattery. The barest smile a reward. In the silence of her quarters, engaging in those rare moments reserved for pleasure reading, when all of the galaxy seemed to have come to a halt just for her, she'd imagine the pages being filled with his voice, reciting poetry for her.

When he had kissed her she responded only tentatively. But beyond the surface, her veins had flooded with passion. A Sith sensation.

She would not be the first Master to fall, she knew. But her previous persona, the Barsen'thor, was at a loss.

There was but one person she trusted to confine in completely. Luckily, she was experienced in the matters of passion.

* * *

Later, she would relate the situation to Lana.

At first Lana would suspect that it is a game—a plot of Arcann's to gain access to the Eternal Throne. But he was stronger than most, able to carve a bloody path through their forces without flinching, and yet he's lived on Odessen for months, in quiet seclusion. The Force betrayed no ill intention.

Then, she would encourage her to draw strength from the bond.

"But the Jedi code forbids—"

"Your time as a Jedi is long gone," the Sith would interrupt her. "You are free to forge your own path now."

Her friend's opinion is all she needed to hear.

She would open herself to love.


End file.
